


The Life and Soul of the Team

by OgdensOldFirewhiskey



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternative Perspective, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Canon Compliant, Crushes, F/M, Fluff, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, No Plot/Plotless, POV Ginny Weasley, Quidditch, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25496059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OgdensOldFirewhiskey/pseuds/OgdensOldFirewhiskey
Summary: Ginny did not seem at all upset about the breakup with Dean; on the contrary, she was the life and soul of the team. Her imitations of Ron anxiously bobbing up and down in front of the goal posts as the Quaffle sped toward him, or of Harry bellowing orders at McLaggen before being knocked out cold, kept them all highly amused. Harry, laughing with the others, was glad to have an  innocent reason to look at Ginny; he had received several more Bludger injuries during practice because he had not been keeping his eyes on the Snitch.Ginny knows Harry is staring at her, and hopes desperately that it means what she thinks it might. Ginny's POV during one Quidditch practice and beyond. Set in HBP, during Sectumsempra.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 15
Kudos: 168





	The Life and Soul of the Team

His eyes were on her again.

She felt it rather than saw it, as she made a looping turn around Katie, who was currently acting as a defender in their drill. It would have been perfectly natural for him to be watching her – if she had possessed the Quaffle. As it was, Demelza was making a rather speedy break with it toward Ron, floating by the goal posts, Katie hot on her heels. Ginny, uncharacteristically, was not very involved in this play at all.

And yet she felt his eyes burning into her as though his gaze was tangible, like a heat on the back of her neck, a tingling down her spine.

_Well, let’s give him something to watch then, shall we?_

Ginny arched her back on her broom and leaned low, speeding like a bullet toward Ron, whose attention was completely focused on the oncoming Demelza. She could distract him, leaving the left post open for Demelza’s shot…

“Oi!” Ron yelped as she emerged quickly from his right, deftly avoiding a collision and a foul by using the Sloth Grip Roll, right as Demelza made her shot.

“Excellent!” she heard Harry call from his position, hovering above them all. “Nice distraction there, Ginny!”

She smirked up at him. “I’m good at distracting people,” she called boldly.

Harry laughed. It was difficult to tell from their distance, but she thought his cheeks may have been flushed. Maybe. Possibly.

God, she hoped so.

“Bloody nuisance, you are,” Ron grumbled, having retrieved the Quaffle after Demelza’s successful goal.

Ginny laughed, patting her brother affectionately. She always did like Ron best. “Come off it, that was perfectly legal. I’m giving you great practice for our next match.”

“Yes, but they’ll hardly be undefended when they come barreling at me, will they?” he asked, still sounding grumpy.

“I’ll show you how it’s done.” She flew up the goal posts, adopting Ron’s hunched posture on his broom and his characteristic expression of concentration. She began bobbing up and down in front of the goal posts, in an exaggeration of Ron’s typical Keeper stance. “Alright, come on you lot, give me your best shot!” she called, trying to lower her voice enough to match Ron’s. “Weasley is your King!”

It must have been effective, because Demelza and Katie giggled loudly, while Jimmy Peakes doubled over laughing. Harry lowered his broom and drifted toward them all, laughing loudly too.

Ron rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to give it a bit more finesse,” he said, not sounding too annoyed by her impression. “Your bobbing could use some work.”

Harry was grinning at her widely, his green eyes twinkling. “Oh, I don’t know, Ron,” he said in a mock-thoughtful tone, “I think she’s got the spirit of the thing.”

Ginny smiled. “If the Captain says it, it must be true.”

He raised his eyebrows, smirking at her teasingly, “Really? I’ll keep that in mind next time you disagree with the play I’ve drawn up.”

“Pfft,” she scoffed. “You didn’t let me finish. It’s only true when you’re talking about how brilliant I am.”

Harry laughed again. She felt warmth spreading through her chest. She wanted to keep making him laugh like that, to keep making him look at her like that.

So she did.

When Harry called out a correction to Coote on his form, Ginny impersonated Harry yelling at McLaggen, before pulling off a rather elaborate swan dive to the ground to mimic Harry’s fall, his laughter ringing in her ears the whole way down.

Whenever he flew down from circling the pitch for the Snitch to observe their play, she made sure to fly past him closely, muttering jokes about Zacharias Smith and Romilda Vane or whatever came to her mind, pretending all the while not to notice when he’d been hit rather squarely with a Bludger immediately afterward because he was too busy watching her fly away.

That had to mean something. Didn’t it?

“You all played brilliantly,” said Harry as they circled around on the ground in the middle of the pitch for the end of practice. “Peakes, you were doing really well defensively, which is exactly what we’ll need against Ravenclaw. Demelza, your dodging was excellent. Katie, it’s great to have you back, your passes set up some fantastic plays.” He turned to her. She couldn’t be imagining the way he was looking at her, right? The flush on his cheeks, the way he was anxiously running a hand through his messy hair? “Ginny, you were brilliant, which I’m told is the only thing I say that can be trusted.”

The team tittered as Ginny beamed at him, her heart fluttering. “We’ll keep practicing some of those formations on Friday. Coote, it’s your turn to put the balls away. Alright everyone, have a great night!”

The team began walking toward the locker room, while Ritchie Coote started wrestling a struggling Bludger into the crate. Jimmy, Demelza, and Katie walked up ahead, while Ginny lagged behind with Harry and Ron.

“I think we’ve got a really good chance at beating Ravenclaw,” said Ron enthusiastically, sounding exhilarated. “I think our Beaters match up well against theirs.”

“And our Chasers,” Harry added, turning and smiling down at her again.

“We’ve got a pretty good Seeker, too,” said Ginny, batting him playfully on the arm in what she hoped wasn’t too transparent a ruse to touch him. “Some posh no-name bloke, you’ve probably never heard of him.”

Harry crinkled his nose, an effect slightly undermined by the crooked smirk on his face. “Posh, eh?”

She was about to respond with something flirtatious about his accent when Ron said, “I’ve been thinking about some new Chaser formations, actually, there’s this one I saw in _Quidditch Through the Ages_ that I think we should try out…”

As she showered in the stall next to Harry’s, she tried to think of ways she could tell Ron to bugger off that wouldn’t be supremely obvious. How could she hang back, and made sure that Harry stayed with her? Her heart accelerated at the thought of being alone with Harry in the locker room.

 _God_ , she thought, feeling suddenly panicked. What was she doing? Was she going to do this to herself again? She had no real evidence Harry fancied her, nothing more than a few grins and Quidditch distractions to suggest he wanted to be with her.

But she fancied him _so much_ it was almost painful. She’d done a good job of forcing those particular feelings down, of pretending to herself that she didn’t have real feelings for him, that it wasn’t anything beyond thinking he was fit. It had all been going so well.

But then, something had shifted. This year had been almost torturous. He had some nerve, talking to her like that and laughing with her and making jokes with her and asking her to join them sodding Hogsmeade. And the staring. The god damn staring. His bravery, his wit, his dry sarcasm, his undying loyalty and desire to protect the people he loved most… Ginny was almost irritated at him for putting together such an appealing package, one that seemed specially curated just for her.

It didn’t hurt that he was Quidditch Captain this year, either. She’d noticed it last year in the DA meetings – leadership was something Harry wore well.

Too well, if you asked her.

Poor, poor Dean. She’d tried in vain to pretend that she wasn’t being driven quietly mad by Harry Potter, but eventually she’d had to acknowledge that she wasn’t being fair to him. Her feelings for Harry had become unwieldy, a dangerous and raw thing. Dean was a good bloke, a good boyfriend. He hadn’t deserved her fickle heart.

She sound of the shower next to hers turning off broke her out of her reverie. _Should I try to get him alone_? Ginny wondered. She quickly rinsed the remaining conditioner out of her hair and turned her own shower off, waving her wand to dry herself off and pulling on her clothes, hoping to catch him before he left.

She walked out of the stall to find Harry still pulling his shirt on. She tried not to stare at him like a lecherous creep, but if she glanced at him once or twice… well, who could blame her?

Ron was nowhere to be seen – she heard a shower still on, but hoped desperately that it was one of the others, that he had already gone up to dinner, that she and Harry could finally be alone.

“That was a good practice, wasn’t it?” Harry asked casually.

“Brilliant,” Ginny agreed as she pulled on her socks. “Dumbledore should just enchant the cup to have our name on already.”

“That’d be great, wouldn’t it?” said Harry, looking wistful. “If we won? It seems like ages since I’ve been able to play in a Quidditch final.”

Ginny scoffed. “ _If_ we won? That’s not the attitude I want from my Captain.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “ _When_ we’ve won.”

“Much better.”

“Good to have Katie back,” he said, with what she thought was a tone of forced nonchalance.

She eyed him shrewdly as he deliberately did not meet her gaze, instead folding his towel and laying it carefully on the bench. “Yeah… good to be shot of Dean, too,” she said, matching his air of would-be-casualness carefully.

His eyes snapped up to hers. “Oh… is it?” he asked hesitatingly.

“Yes,” she said, no longer talking about Quidditch at all, “it is.” She’d wanted to sound nonchalant and joking, but it had come out wrong, more serious than she’d meant, and now he was staring at her and she felt quite trapped in the cloud of his scented shampoo and his vivid green eyes.

He too looked a bit entranced. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. They stared at each other for several long moments, something brewing between them. She found herself staring at his lips. It would be so easy to close the few feet of distance between them, to lean up and wrap her arms around his neck…

“I’m bloody starving!” Ron announced as he emerged from the remaining stall, pulling his shirt on as he walked. Ginny jumped noticeably, her face burning, but Ron remained oblivious, his face buried in his shirt.

Ginny wondered what the punishment was for murdering your own brother.

Harry glanced back at her quickly, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Er yeah, Ginny and I were just—”

“Let’s go,” said Ron obliviously, “I hope they’re serving steak.”

Ginny sat next to him at dinner, brushing against him as often as she dared. She thought he might have been doing the same, but it was difficult to tell. All the while her mind raced. Had he caught her meaning, that she wasn’t just talking about Quidditch when she said she was happy to be shot of Dean?

Ron and Hermione were bickering about something McGonagall had said in Transfiguration earlier when Harry turned to her, a slightly mischievous look in his eye. “Did I tell you I went to a spider funeral?”

Ginny choked on her pumpkin juice. “Excuse me, _what_?”

Harry smirked. “Yeah, Aragog, that massive acromantula Hagrid raised from an egg? It died last week, so I had to go pay my respects.”

Ginny began laughing. “Please don’t tell me this is the same massive spider that almost ate you and Ron.”

“No,” said Harry seriously. “He never wanted to eat us.” He paused and took a drink from his goblet. “Didn’t have much of a problem with his hundreds of children helping themselves though.”

Ginny snorted. “You were heartbroken at his passing, I’m sure.”

“Devastated,” replied Harry dryly.

“Y’know, I don’t think I ever learned much about acromantulas in Defense Against the Dark Arts,” Ginny mused, taking a bite of her steak and kidney pie. “What are they like?”

“Hairy,” said Harry immediately. “And I’m not surprised you haven’t, when would you? Death Eater Moody was a bit preoccupied with his murder plot to teach you much about Dark creatures.”

“Mm, for a Death Eater he did teach us more than some of the others though, to be fair,” Ginny said thoughtfully. “He wasn’t the _worst_ we’ve ever had.”

“True,” Harry agreed.

“Who is though, do you think?” asked Ginny, suddenly curious.

“The worst Defense professor?” asked Harry, furrowing his brow.

Ginny nodded, and then smirked. “Rate them. Best to worst.”

Harry pondered for a moment before turning to her with a pained look on his face. “You do realize you’re asking me to differentiate between Umbridge, Snape, a Death Eater who tried to murder me, and literal Voldemort, don’t you?”

“It wouldn’t be interesting if it were easy, Harry,” she chided.

“Fine. Well Lupin is obviously the best, no question.”

“Agreed.”

“It gets a bit tricky after that,” he said, twiddling his fork in his fingers. “Which is worse, having Voldemort sticking out of the back of your head, or trying to wipe my memory permanently?”

“Don’t forget removing all of the bones from your arm,” Ginny reminded him helpfully. “And the lavender dress robes. That has to factor in somewhere.”

“Those were awful. Oh, and the effing signed photographs, I forgot about those…”

Ginny shrugged. “You’ve got some tough decisions to make, mate.”

“Am I rating based on teaching abilities, or on how much I liked them?” asked Harry, still looking thoughtful.

“Either. Both,” said Ginny, shrugging.

“Fine. First pass: Lupin, Death Eater Moody, Quirrell, Lockhart, Umbridge, Snape,” he said, ticking them off on his fingers as he went.

Ginny burst out laughing. “You hate Snape _that_ much? More than _Umbridge_?”

“It was close. Snape won by the length of his greasy nose,” explained Harry.

“Why is Quirrell so high?” she asked, still shaking with mirth. “He was literally Voldemort!”

“Yes but I didn’t know that till the end,” said Harry fairly, taking a bite of his pie with a smile on his face. “Before that, he was perfectly normal.”

Ginny nodded, still looking up at him with a smile. “You have a very strange life.”

“Do I?” asked Harry sarcastically. “I hadn’t noticed.”

“Were you _rating_ the Defense professors,” said Hermione from across the table, a concerned look on her face. “I don’t think that’s—”

“Now _that’s_ an interesting question,” said Ron. “Harry rated Snape last, didn’t he?”

Ginny burst out laughing again, as Harry said, “Of course.”

There was definitely something there, she decided as she got into bed that night. There was definitely something in the way he’d been looking at her lately, something in the way they chatted so easily. She didn’t know what it was, whether he fancied her the way she fancied him, or something else entirely. But she knew it was something.

And she was going to do something about it.


End file.
